


Undisclosed Desires

by realityfallsapart



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Tattoo Artist Phil Lester, Tattoos, brief descriptions of tattoo needles, guys I really like this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:26:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realityfallsapart/pseuds/realityfallsapart
Summary: Phil Lester is a tattoo artist who makes art come to life on his clients' skin. One day, a new client walks in. A young man with stars and broken glass in his eyes and curly hair. Dan, the client, doesn't really say much, Phil's learned, but he soon becomes a regular at Phil's tattoo parlor. Phil found the brunet cute, to say the least, but he really has no choice but to confront his feelings when Dan asks for a tattoo splaying across his hips.





	Undisclosed Desires

**Author's Note:**

> My second PBB fic is now up!!!! 
> 
> This is probably my favorite fic I've ever written so far. Being a tattoo artist is my dream job, so I poured a lot of my knowledge into this fic, designed Dan's tattoos, and did a lot of research. This fic holds a special place in my heart. 
> 
> Thank you so much @just-another-phanfic on tumblr for not only creating [this incredible art](https://just-another-phanfic.tumblr.com/post/181051142078) but for jumping in as a beta when mine kind of bailed on me. This fic is how it is because of you <3
> 
> This fic was partially inspired by the song [Undisclosed Desires](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWTuKd2lTo4) by Muse
> 
> Enjoy!

"Hey Phil, do I have any other appointments after this?" Travis asked over the buzz of the tattoo machine.

Phil hopped off the stool, where he had been watching Travis work, and opened the store appointment book. He sighed when he saw the state of it. The times were all messed up and half of the writing was nearly illegible, but granted, that's what Phil got for letting Travis do the books this week.

"Is that Shelly?" he asked, squinting at the page to try and make out the words. It was the last name on the list that hadn't been scribbled out, but the time read for almost three hours from now.

"Yeah, I moved her up after Tony cancelled again."

"Then yeah, you've got nothing else for today. You think he's ever going to come back and get that shading finished?"

"Who knows? Maybe the guy likes walking around with a half-finished tattoo. Maybe he thinks it looks badass like that."

Phil snorted and closed the book just as he heard the woman—Shelly, as it seemed—suck in a deep breath as Travis continued to do the line work for her tattoo. Travis reminded her to breathe before continuing.

"Would you mind if I left a little early then? Jess' parents are coming over later and she wants me to be there when they arrive."

"Sure, I'll handle any walk-ins we have, as long as you bring breakfast tomorrow."

"Deal."

Phil grinned.

"Good luck, mate, we all know how much her parents just adore you."

Travis laughed and gave Phil a glance in between the lines he was inking before turning his attention back to his work.

"I think you're confusing 'adore' and 'hate-with-all-their-might' again, Phil."

 

* * *

 

Travis slipped his coat over his shoulders and gave his station another once-over.

"You sure you're okay with this? I don't want a shit ton of people to walk in like last time I asked to leave early and you end up staying until ass-crack o'clock because they were willing to pay triple and you can't say no."

"Don't worry, I'm only doing it for the doughnuts you promised me an hour ago, not a potential pay increase."

"Doughnuts? You said breakfast, mate. For all you know I could bring in a half eaten box of cereal and throw it at your head."

Phil put a hand on his chest and feigned the best horrified expression he could manage on the fly.

"Travis, you wound me."

He couldn't keep a straight face though and cracked a smile. Travis grinned back and pulled him into one of those bro hugs that, before meeting Travis, Phil had thought were just a joke.

"I'll see you tomorrow Phil. And do yourself a favor and just tell people to come in the next day alright? You're too nice sometimes."

"Yeah yeah yeah, go on, get out of here and try and survive a night with the in-laws." Phil said, shooing Travis towards the door. He stuck out a tongue when Travis gave him the finger and shut the door behind him, waving before turning around and walking back behind the counter. He sat back up on his stool and took out his phone. He didn't have anything scheduled for the rest of the day, and while walk-ins were always possible, he wasn't betting on there being many on a late Tuesday afternoon. He checked the clock as the game loaded. There were about two hours before closing time, but Phil could probably sneak out in one if there weren't any walk-ins—Travis wouldn't care if he slipped out a bit early.

Flappy Bird loaded and all of his attention flocked straight to the pixel animation on his screen. He grinned. An hour playing games wouldn't be so bad.

 

* * *

 

Phil checked his pockets, making sure he had his wallet and phone on him. It had been a little over an hour since Travis had left, and Phil was heavily looking forward to returning to his flat and curling up on the couch with some leftover pizza from last night.

He casted a glance over the rest of the store behind him. He had already wiped down the tattoo equipment and lavished his tattoo machine in care and attention because he had actually had the time for once. He had swept and taken out the trash, as well as all of the other little miscellaneous chores that were required to be done on a daily basis. Phil had even sat down and attempted to decode the appointment book, but decided against it almost instantly when he was once again faced with Travis' impossible scrawl.

"Perfect," he muttered to himself, locking the back office before turning back around and walking back to the front, past the handful of tattoo booths. Phil was humming softly to himself and swinging his keys on his finger, a smile on his face. He adored his job with every fiber of his being, but there was just something inherently refreshing in leaving early, even if it _was_ for not much more than an hour.

Phil yelped in surprise when he rounded a corner to find someone waiting in the lobby, his keys flying off of his finger and hitting the floor as his body froze and the keys' momentum kept them going.

The guy jumped and looked up from where he was leafing through one of the flash tattoo binders at the loud entrance Phil made, and Phil hastily tried to explain himself.

"I'm sorry! I didn't hear you come in and I was, uh, just taking care of some stuff in the back." Phil said, gesturing hopelessly behind him as if it would explain everything. The guy didn't follow Phil's hand and continued to not really pay Phil much mind, minus his snap to attention at the sound of Phil's keys hitting the ground.

"Can you tattoo me? Your website said you didn't close for another hour."

His voice was cautious and extremely soft, but also completely and utterly flat and monotone. Phil wanted to frown at it, not used to hearing someone sound so...sad? Defeated? He didn't know.

"Sure. Did you find a flash design that you liked? I'm afraid if you wanted anything custom I could probably only give you a consultation and draw something up for you due to time and all that."

"No," the guy said, closing the binder and putting it back onto the table, "I was just looking. I just want words, if that's okay?" He stood, but he continued to keep their gazes from meeting. His whole frame was hunched over and closed in on itself. Phil wondered why, but didn't dare press the issue—it wasn't his place.  

"Yeah, that's fine." Phil said, walking into the room more and sitting down across from him. Phil didn't miss how the guy took a step back and curled his shoulders into himself even more than they were at the action, but didn't say anything.

"What would you like? And where?"

The guy reached behind him and dug out a wadded up piece of paper and a pen, unwrinkling it as best as he could. He then leaned over and started to write something, his brow crinkled in concentration. He wrote slowly and steadily, like he was trying his hardest to make it neat. When he was done, he sat up and handed it to Phil, once again avoiding looking directly in his eyes. Phil looked over what he had written and nodded, recognizing the lyrics.

"Good song. Is this all?"

"Yeah. I want it in my handwriting though. And right here," he said, reaching up and pulling away his jumper collar, tapping his finger on his collarbone, "please."

Phil frowned. Tattoos in general were painful. How much pain someone experienced with a tattoo varied person to person, but a general rule was that tattoos that are on areas with less skin, muscle, and tissue between the tattoo needle and bone, hurt more. Collarbones and ribs were easy and painful examples.

Phil let his eyes scan over the exposed skin once more. This guy's collarbone was _easily_ visible and therefore would probably hurt like _hell._

"Are you sure? Collarbone tattoos hurt, especially when they're on ones as prominent as yours…" Phil said, trailing off and still concerned whether this guy knew what he was getting into. But he just nodded.

"Yes. I'm sure."

"Okay, let me just trace over this to create a stencil and get all set up. I'll be right back." Phil held out his hand. "I'm Phil by the way," he said with a smile, hoping to help the guy relax. He didn't smile back, but his hand was warm and soft in Phil's.

"Dan."

Phil stood.

"Alright, give me a minute, Dan."

He made his quick exit and filed himself away where he and Travis kept the equipment to make a stencil. Phil worked quickly, but let his mind wander.

Dan was tall—though not as tall as Phil—and lanky, full of sharp edges and small curves. He had a nice face framed with a mass of curls coagulated on top of his head and pink lips. He was attractive, yes, but Phil didn't really go for kicked-puppy-looking men, as in his experience, it was only an act to hide their shitty personality.

Phil rolled his eyes at himself when he realized his train of thought and derailed it: he may not know Dan, but he didn't have to make any bad assumptions about the guy.

Minus Dan's inherent prettiness, he was obviously a ball of anxiety, or just extremely nervous. He was jumpy and had yet to look Phil in the eyes, not to mention return one of Phil's smiles. None of those things were necessarily _bad_ per se _,_ there was something just...missing from Dan. A spark, an emotion, Phil didn't know, but he got a distinct, instinctual feeling that something was just off about him. Maybe it was his flat voice or almost scared posture, or something else, but he just was _._

Which was fine, Dan was allowed to be however he wanted, Phil was only there to tattoo him.

Phil shoved away the various materials he was working with along with the paper of Dan's handwriting as he stood, the newly made stencil in his hand. He walked back to the waiting room where he had left Dan.

"Hey Dan," Phil asked, mentally kicking himself for forgetting _again,_ and not asking earlier, "do you have some kind of ID on you? I forgot to make sure you're legal." Phil continued, a little sheepish. "I know you're probably older than eighteen, I just have to make sure. Parlor rules and all."

This was not the first time that checking the ID of people had slipped his mind. Phil had had plenty of teens over the years try and weasel their way into getting a tattoo before they were eighteen, which was why he and Travis had ended up implementing the no-exceptions rule in the first place.

Phil breathed an internal sigh of relief as Dan slipped his wallet out of his pocket and wordlessly showed Phil his driver's license.

"Thank god you're legal," Phil said with a bit of a breathless laugh. "I didn't really want to kick another sixteen year old out this week."

Phil's eye caught on the date of Dan's birthday, and his eyes widened in surprise.   
"Hey, wait, you turned twenty-six _today?_ Happy birthday!" Phil cried, his mouth splitting open wide, eyes snapping up to Dan's. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before Dan was tearing them away, Phil's chest left feeling warm.

Phil wasn't one to miss detail. Mostly because it was his job—Phil's specialty in hyper-realistic tattoos making it essential to spot the things that people would normally skim over. So in that half a second, Phil was able to map out the gold flecks starbursting out from Dan's pupil and the incredible range of browns melting together and flowing apart. He saw the sadness like broken glass, but also the shreds of joy bursting up over Phil's words, and it all rushed over Phil like a tidal wave.

_Jesus, he has really pretty eyes._

"Thanks," Dan said a little weakly, but with a faint tone of happiness at Phil's birthday well-wishes. The corner of his lip twitched into a half-happy-half-sad smile, and Phil had the impression that Dan hadn't had anyone wish him a good birthday yet today. The thought made Phil's heart clench.

He turned back around and beckoned Dan to follow him, leading Dan to Phil's bench and gesturing for Dan to take a seat as he gathered what he needed. Phil pulled on his gloves and opened the cabinet to his left, flopping back on his rolly chair. He settled on a round liner needle—since he wouldn't be doing any shading on Dan's tattoo—and pulled one out. He assembled it onto his tattoo machine after inspecting the needle for any defects, threading it through and fastening it with three rubber bands. Phil tested it twice to make sure that everything was settled before getting up. He returned with black ink in a disposable container, and a cup of water.

As it turned out, Dan had to remove his jumper due to the collar being too tight to rest off of his shoulder comfortably and safely without the possibility it would slide off and snap back into place in the middle of tattooing him. As it _also_ turned out, Dan had very, very pretty lightly tanned skin that Phil appreciated from a _strictly artistic_ viewpoint.

Dan's cheeks were dusted pink as soon as the jumper was off of him, and he hastily let his left arm cover his stomach, his balled up shirt in his grasp. Phil tried to give him his most reassuring look, but Dan once again wasn't quite looking at him.

Which was fine, Phil understood completely.

Phil applied the stencil after prepping the area and he okayed the placement with Dan. He dipped his gloved finger into the water and ghosted the few droplets onto the back of the stencil. Phil repeated the process as necessary, but he ended up chewing on the inside of his cheek all the same, quietly observing what nice collarbones Dan had and how the water glistened on his skin.

Once Phil peeled back the stencil and nodded—pleased at how the words transferred—he used a little hand mirror he had buried in one of his cabinets to make sure Dan was 100% okay with it. Dan just nodded before settling back against the tattoo bench, staring up at the ceiling as he waited for Phil to start.

Phil clicked on his tattoo machine and leaned over, bringing the needle to Dan's skin.

Most people, when they get tattooed, they react. They squirm, they tense up, they squeeze their eyes shut or bite down on something. They blast music, try and distract themselves by bringing a friend or chatting with their artist, _anything._

Dan, however, didn't.

Phil, trying to give Dan a chance and get used to the ordeal of tattooing, had started as far away from his collarbone as the design allowed, even taking it slow at first and cheering Dan on silently, but now Phil was half-way through and Dan had yet to even _twitch._ His worries over how Dan would take it were seemingly unfounded because Phil was directly over Dan's impossibly exposed collarbone and all Dan was doing was laying back, breathing calmly and staring up at the ceiling like this was the easiest thing he'd ever done.

Phil was in shock.

He had been tattooing professionally for over ten years, had tattooed every place imaginable on a person's body, had seen thousands of customers, and no one had _ever_ reacted so peacefully to a tattoo in such a painful area.

Normally, at this point, he would be leaning back, asking if the person he was working on needed a break, but Phil flicked his eyes over Dan's relaxed body and just kept going, finishing the 's' he was in the midst of and wiping the skin before moving onto the 'e'.

Sooner rather than later, Phil was shutting off his machine and setting it down, unhooking the needle and rubber bands holding it and throwing the needle away. He rifled through his cabinets to find his bandages and pulled them out.

Phil wiped down the skin one last time, looking up at Dan, who had torn his gaze away from the ceiling and was now watching Phil.

"Do you want a picture before I wrap it?"

"No, it's okay."

He bandaged the fresh tattoo, smiling as he surveyed the ink curling around Dan's collarbone.

"Well, I think it's great, and not just because I'm biased. Lyrics are always a good choice, but Radiohead ones? Almost as amazing as Muse-inspired tattoos." Phil rambled, scooting back on his chair when he was finished with the bandage, his fingers warm from the body heat radiating off of Dan.

Dan was smiling a little as he sat up, tossing a half-glance in Phil's direction, nodding to what Phil was saying. He tugged on his jumper, Phil's gaze following the slide of the material. However, Phil's mouth ran dry and his heart caught in his chest when he saw a fist-sized bruise span Dan's side, right where he had rushed to cover with his arm earlier.

Phil frantically looked up at Dan's face, trying to meet his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice strained and his gaze slipping back down to burn a hole in Dan's jumper where it continued to cover the bruise.

Maybe Phil shouldn't have said anything. Maybe he just should have silently acknowledged it, given Dan a bit of a supportive smile and reduced his tattoo price. Maybe that's what anyone else would have done. But Phil just honest to god _couldn't._

Because suddenly, maybe the sadness in Dan's eyes made a little bit more sense and Phil wanted to be wrong, he wanted to be so wrong in his jump to conclusions, but there was a sick feeling in his gut that told him that he was right.

Dan froze in the midst of climbing off the tattoo bench. Phil watched as a dozen emotions that he couldn't name flew across Dan's face faster than he could pinpoint, and Dan squeezed his eyes shut.

For a heartbeat, everything was still.

Then Dan slid off the bench and opened his eyes, keeping them trailed on his feet.

"I'm fine."

 _Bullshit!_ a voice screamed in Phil's head, but then Dan was looking up at him with a pleading look on his face, and the words of protest at Dan's blatant lie died in his throat.

Phil's stomach churned. If he had glimpsed Dan's back, would he have seen more bruises spanning his skin? If he hadn't been so engrossed in his work, would he have caught another flash of black and blue?

He didn't know, but he wanted to because _fuck_ , that shouldn't happen to _anyone._

Yet, it wasn't his place.

But _god_ did Phil wish it was.

"How much do I owe you?" Dan asked when Phil did nothing but stare just as pleadingly back, Dan's voice just as soft and heartbroken as when he had first spoken.

"Nothing," Phil blurted out.

Looking pained, Dan just shook his head.

"Please let me pay for this, Phil. I'm fine, I promise."

Phil kept his gaze on Dan, but Dan didn't relent, and Phil crumbled.

"Okay, let me ring you up then."

"Thank you," Dan breathed out, and followed Phil back to the register. Phil, a lance in his heart, just did as Dan pleaded and rung him up. Dan's tattoo was small and didn't require fine detail, so already the price wasn't that high, but that didn't stop him from taking a few pounds off because he _could,_ damnit.

Dan just pulled his wallet back out and handed Phil the money, slipping in extra, but not without Phil catching him.

"Dan, please, you don't have to-"

"You're supposed to tip your tattoo artist, Phil. This tattoo means a lot to me, and you worked hard on it. Thank you." Dan said, finally, _finally_ pushing his eyes up to meet Phil's, determination and genuine gratitude swirling through them.

"Dan…" he said, trailing off. His eyes caught on the edge of the bandage peeking out from Dan's collar, and he could easily see the ink pressed into his skin in his mind's eye. Before he could guess what they meant, and really, Phil still had no clue as to what those lines were worth to Dan, but he had a much better idea now. He could only hope they were true.

"Thank you," Dan said again, pushing the money into Phil's hand, his fingers soft and gentle where they skimmed Phil's skin. Dan smiled, and it was the realest smile Phil had seen from him.

Dan stepped back and gave a little wave before turning around and pushing past the door, the bell at the top chiming as he left.

Pained, Phil just watched him leave.

He looked down at the cash in his hand, and sighed, slipping it into his pocket even if it felt like blood money. He rubbed his temple and turned back around. He walked back to his station where he had just had Dan with him, heart heavy. Phil cleaned up, wiping down the bench and giving his tattoo machine one last once-over. He pulled his jacket up from where it had fallen off of the back of his chair and slipped it over his shoulders once more. Phil flicked off the lights and cursed himself when the backlight where the stencils were made still shined. He had forgotten to turn it off evidently after he had made Dan's stencil. Not necessarily abnormal, but deeply unwelcome when his soul hurt and he just wanted to curl up in bed and curse humanity for being so fucked up because Phil cared _too much_.

Phil groaned when he was reminded how his past self had just shoved everything out of the way and not taken the time to legitimately clean it up. But he was a man of habit, and if the parlor was a mess then he couldn't bring himself to leave.

So Phil gathered the trash and threw it away, put the stencil equipment back in its place, and bent down to pick up the pen he had used off of the ground. He scooped up a piece of paper that was also on the ground, and glanced at it before tossing it in the bin.

His heart throbbed again at Dan's handwriting staring back up at him, but Phil tried to push it away. He was well aware that he was nothing but a bystander in this situation, and even outside of that, he didn't even _know_ the situation, he only had a guess. And no matter how he would look at it, he'd never know what was really happening unless Dan decided to tell him, a stranger, which would never happen.

So he had to hope.

He read the lyrics again and breathed out deeply, his heart hurting a little less. Dan would be fine.

Phil tossed the paper into the bin, the words fluttering down until Phil could no longer see the words _Tonight I'll set you free_ scribbled in Dan's penmanship.

As Phil locked up and walked out of the tattoo parlor, he smiled. He hoped Dan was enjoying his first night of freedom.

 

* * *

 

Phil wiped away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his arm and hunched back over, using the fine needle he was working with to add the finishing touches to the tattoo he was detailing.

A realistic watercolor-style flower was spanning the thigh of the girl on Phil's bench. This was her third and final appointment, and Phil was already fifteen minutes past the time he had originally allotted.

"Almost there," he muttered when her hand started to fidget again, "I'm just blending a bit to make it look a lot more natural."

She nodded and gripped the chair as Phil went back to work.

Twenty minutes later, she was done and thanking Phil over and over as she paid, positively beaming and saying that she absolutely loved it. Phil was just as excited as she was because moments like this were the reason why he picked his profession; he wanted to make people happy with themselves and their bodies. Every eye-crinkling smile at the end result was a rush for Phil.

"Phil! I need to you handle the walk-ins we have. Xander and I are in the middle of appointments, and you were _supposed_ to be done ages ago, mate." Travis called from where he was hunched over his own customer. "The guy with the curly hair was here first, and I already got his stencil done before Stacy here walked in so go get him done before anyone else."

Phil called his agreement—as well as an apology—over his shoulder and quickly threw away the needles and empty cups of ink, and cleaned up everything from the last tattoo he had done. Phil wiped down the bench and picked up the stencil in the back where Travis had left it before he had to work on his scheduled appointment. It was a little constellation, about the width of Phil's palm. Because he had been asked to do the zodiac signs of people for years now, he easily recognized it as the outline of the Leo constellation.

"Sorry for the wait, we're a little backed up today. Can I have whoever is getting a Leo tattoo done?" Phil asked, walking into the waiting room. There were three people in the seats. Two were what looked like a mother and her teenage daughter that were paging through one of the flash tattoo books, and the last person was sitting with his back to Phil, looking at his phone. The guy looked up when Phil spoke, tucking his phone into his back pocket and standing. Phil recognized him immediately.

"Dan?" he asked, jaw dropping. "You're back!" he finished, a smile pulling up the corners on his mouth. Dan didn't really look him in the eyes, but he did return Phil's grin a little.

"Yeah, I'm back."

It had been over three weeks since Dan had first walked into Phil's tattoo parlor, and Phil honestly hadn't thought that he would see him again, but as Phil glanced over Dan's frame—everything about him just the same—Phil knew that he was more than glad that Dan had found his way back.

"So Dan," Phil asked in the middle of assembling his tattoo machine with a round liner needle, "last time you were here it was your birthday, and I know a thing or two about zodiac stuff since they're such a well-asked-for tattoo, so I know you wouldn't be a Leo. I'm still curious as to why you picked it, however. Can I ask why you're getting it done?"

Phil attached the rubber bands onto the machine and tested it, sparing Dan a glance. Dan shrugged a little, seemingly uncomfortable.

"Just...kinda because, I guess?"

Phil nodded, dropping the topic. He set his machine down and picked up the stencil with his gloved hands.

"Fair enough. I've had tattoos done 'just because' as well." Phil said, hoping to make Dan relax. Phil had forgotten how high-strung he was. "Can you take your jumper off? I need it out of the way again to do this where you want."

Dan nodded, and suddenly Phil could feel a tension between them. Or, more like a tension emanating from Phil, right in time with the breath that seemed to get stuck in his throat.

Last time Dan had his shirt off for a tattoo, Phil had seen bruises.

Would there be more?

Phil honest-to-god might cry if there were.

Dan pulled off his jumper and with every inch of skin that was revealed, Phil let his eyes roam, searching for evidence that this man was being mistreated.

There was nothing new, which made Phil almost sigh in relief.

The bruise that he had noticed last time had obviously had time to heal—it wasn't black and blue, but a muted yellow of sorts; it was clearly on the mend.

Phil also noticed the first tattoo he'd given Dan, the black letters standing out against Dan's skin.

"Your tattoo is healing really well. You've obviously been taking care of it." Phil said, carefully avoiding the elephant in the room. They both knew that Phil had looked, and they both knew what Phil was looking _for._ However, that didn't mean that they had to talk about it.

Last time Dan certainly hadn't wanted to.

"I love it," Dan said simply, and Phil knew his sentiments exactly.

Phil himself had many tattoos—what respectable tattoo artist didn't? The art on Phil's body collectively didn't have much in common. Some he'd given himself in his apprenticeship days, others he'd gotten done by other artists. And all of them, from the garden of plants spanning his side and back to the little Pikachu on his wrist, he'd taken care of religiously because having something that you love etched into your skin? Priceless. There's no other option but to take care of them in Phil's mind.

"Yeah," he said, checking over his equipment and the stencil on Dan's skin yet again in a nervous habit of his, "I know what you mean."

Neither of them said anything after that, but the silence wasn't by any means strained. If anything, as Phil started to etch the lines of ink into Dan's skin, the lack of conversation felt comfortable and normal—more like something that Phil had been doing with Dan for years.

This tattoo was even less complicated than the first one that Dan had had done, so they were done much sooner; a handful of lines and dots representing the stars were crawling over Dan's collarbone by the time Phil ended up pulling away.

"All done." Phil said, leaning back. Dan sat up, looking down at his collarbone even though he wouldn't be able to see the whole thing from his perspective.

"Thank you."

There was the beginning of a smile playing at Dan's lips, making Phil beam.

Ten minutes later Dan was walking right back out of the door of the tattoo parlor, the same little wave Dan gave Phil last time making another appearance. The gentle smile on Dan's lips was still there, the corners pulled up higher than Phil had ever seen them. The sight made Phil's chest grow warm.

 

* * *

 

Over the next four months, Dan became a common sight in the tattoo parlor. He was in at least once every two weeks, asking for something that generally fit the m.o. of all of his other tattoos: small, typically uncomplicated, and carrying hidden meanings that Phil only wished that he could know. And even though Phil was always the one to tattoo him, all of the other artists knew him at this point and greeted him whenever they saw him as if Dan was a friend. Every time it happened Phil saw the happiness blossom across his pretty face at being acknowledged.

Now, after months of steady tattooing, Dan had a respectable amount of his pale skin covered.

His third tattoo was no larger than the length of Phil's fingers and only a few inches wide. It was of a bear, it's paws dissolving into stars. The bear was near the crease of Dan's right elbow, on the inside of his forearm. Phil remembered the session vividly after seeing the faint, vertical, white scars on Dan's skin. When he had seen them he couldn't stop his fingers from running lightly down them, tracing the lines with the pads of his fingertips, frowning. That tattoo had taken two appointments to finish the shading.

The fourth tattoo Dan got from Phil was a loose line of leaves blowing in an invisible wind, spiraling up the span of Dan's left forearm. There were half a dozen in total, starting at Dan's wrist and stopping a few inches short of his elbow.

Dan's fifth tattoo was a hand-sized, linework-only heart on his upper right arm, _cor cordium_ inscribed in between the veins. (Phil had googled the words after Dan had left before he had forgotten them. They meant _"heart of hearts"_ in latin.)

His sixth tattoo was another phrase, the words _have the courage to exist_ —once again in Dan's handwriting—on the inside of his wrist, partially overlapping a much larger and much deeper white scar that ran horizontal along his right forearm.

The seventh tattoo was of flowers and leaves. They were on Dan's right shoulder, spilling over a little to his collarbone and quite a bit onto his shoulder blade. Phil added in minuscule splashes of color to some of the petals after the standard black shading. (The end product was much better with the color in Phil's opinion.)

He and Dan ended up seeing each other regularly in those months, and Phil found himself looking forward to the next pleasant surprise of having Dan walk through his parlor door.

A few weeks after Dan's latest tattoo he wandered in much earlier in the day than ever before, almost as soon as they had opened.

"I want something different this time."

"Oh yeah? What kind of different?" Phil asked, pulling his sketchbook closer, flipping past drawings to get to a blank page; Dan had warned him when he walked through the door that this tattoo would need proper designing.

"I want claw marks on my ribs, but I don't want them to be bloody or whatever. I want the part of me that's 'clawed away' to reveal a galaxy underneath. Kind of like I have the universe inside of me, as stupid as that sounds."

Phil thought for a moment, his pencil hovering over the page for a count of ten before he started drawing. It took them several re-draws, but they ended up with something that not only looked badass but made Dan smile in approval.

Due to appointment scheduling, Phil didn't have any time to start right away, but Dan left with an appointment for exactly ten days away. Ten days that slugged by _so_ much slower than Phil wanted.

The first appointment passed without trouble. The linework for the claw marks and some of the fundamental shading was done in their few hours together. The next few appointments happened just the same, though they all focused on the shading and building the forms of the claw marks and the beginnings of the galaxy.

With every appointment however, Phil found his feelings...mixing, to say the least. His eyes lingered on the bends and curves of Dan's body, and his own fingers might have  stayed just this side of too long on Dan's skin, their drag causing Dan to shiver just so slightly (something that gave Phil an irrational amount of pleasure, knowing that he could make Dan react like that).

He was also sure that he talked too much during the appointments. Since Dan wasn't that much of a talker, Phil went on and on about pretty much every scrap of thought that passed through his head. Dan surprisingly didn't tell him to shut up or make Phil feel as if he was annoying him; he listened attentively and would sometimes even softly chime in to offer his opinion on the recent rambling of Phil's. Every soft word of Dan's was a victory to Phil, and it only made Phil talk even more.

More appointments passed, and with each one the layers on Dan's tattoo were fitting seamlessly together, and altogether building the illusion of space flowing under Dan's skin. In the beginning Phil had entertained the idea of dragging out the sessions just a little, but he ultimately decided against it and instead poured his soul into the tattoo. Phil played a deathly amount of attention to detail and revisited areas several times after allowing them to heal in between. He used so many shades of ink that he lost track, but it didn't bother him in the slightest.

The moment he finished it was one that he would remember for the rest of his life. The first thing he did was sit back and stare in disbelief at the art in front of him. The art _he_ made.

"It's done," he had muttered.

Dan heard and sat up to have a proper look himself. Phil watched in rapt attention, his mouth open as he watched the universe inked into Dan's skin ripple and move with him as he sat up. It made the whole thing seem alive.

It was by far the most beautiful tattoo Phil had had the pleasure of bringing into existence.

Dan seemed to share Phil's sentiments. Together they stared at it until Dan looked up at Phil, awe in his eyes.

"Phil, it's...it's bloody _amazing._ I don't even know what to say. Thank you so much, fuck, I love it." There was a smile so wide on Dan's face that it showed two dimples that Phil had never seen before. Quite frankly, between Dan's soft beauty and how well weeks of his work turned out, Phil had needed to catch his breath.

That was weeks ago.

He hadn't seen Dan since, and while he understood that he had zero claim on Dan's time, Phil still found himself glancing every time the door opened in the hope that it would be Dan. In some sense, Phil was remorseful over not letting the sessions drag a little because now Phil didn't get to see him.

Phil was on his phone playing one of his many games; it was an especially slow day. They hadn't had any walk-ins, and there were few appointments scheduled. That all translated into Phil being bored as hell.

He didn't look up when the bell chimed—it had been too long since Dan had last been in for him to properly hope for Dan to walk through—but he did slip his phone away. He got up from where he had been lounging and walked to the waiting room; he rounded the corner and started to greet the customer, but felt his jaw drop to the floor when he came face-to-face with Dan.

There was something different about him. He was stood straighter, and he actually met Phil's eyes without shying away. The bags under his eyes were the smallest Phil had ever seen them and the curls a top his head were messy due to general lack of styling, not looking as if the strands had been pulled by stressed hands. He wasn't as pale and even looked generally healthier.

"Hey, Phil."

"Hi, oh my gosh, I thought you weren't going to come back." Phil rambled, a smile on his face. Dan was grinning as well, his right dimple a shallow depression in his cheek.

"Oh come on, you know I wouldn't be able to stay away from you." Phil's heart dropped at the words. He tried to keep his mind from somersaulting to conclusions, but it might have been too late. Meanwhile, Dan's mouth twisted a little, like he had said something he wasn't supposed to, but he didn't try to change it. "Anyways, I have another tattoo idea in mind. It's not as labor intensive as the last one, don't worry, but it means a lot."

Phil nodded to show that he was listening, but was mentally hung up on Dan's little _"it means a lot._ " All of Dan's tattoos had meant something to him—from what Phil could gather at least—but he had never expressed it so vocally. What was different about this one?

"What are you looking for?"

"Flowers, namely. Here, I have a list of all of the ones I want."

Dan dug a paper out of his jeans pocket and passed it to Phil. The paper was torn at the edges and crumpled, as well as covered in writing. There were eight total flowers, and Phil knew quite a few of them, but hadn't even heard of two. Meanings and half-baked thoughts were spread over the rest of the paper, some crossed out and others were circled. He couldn't read all of them at the moment, but he got the gist.

"I want it to look a lot like my shoulder one, but with more shading, if you wouldn't mind."

"How much more?"

"As much as you want. I want this to look as realistic as you can make it."

Phil nodded, already thinking about ways to arrange the flowers.

"Where do you want it?"

"Here," Dan said, putting his palm in his hip bone, his fingers splayed across his thigh, "right on my hip. I'd like for it to cover a bit of my side and thigh as well."

Phil swallowed to replace the moisture in his mouth. He couldn't deny that he found Dan attractive, nor that tattooing Dan hasn't affected him. Hell, Phil would constantly sneak guilty looks whenever Dan had had to remove his shirt for some of the other tattoos Phil had given him. But collarbones and the bumps of ribs were suddenly so much easier to handle than the prospect of spending extended amounts of time with his hands on Dan's hips.

_He's going to be the death of me._

Phil didn't even ponder giving his heart a break from his crush and have one of the other artists work with Dan for this tattoo—Phil knew he would get too jealous.

"Do you have a more specific design?" Phil asked, praying that Dan couldn't hear his voice warble in the beginning. Dan shook his head.

"I want you to design it."

Phil closed his eyes and nodded, breathing deeply. His own design, right on what was an intimate area of Dan's body. Damn, okay, Dan really _was_ going to be the death of him.

 _I appreciate the cute boy, universe, but this is just unfair,_ he thought.

 

* * *

 

Phil tested his tattoo gun. When he was sure it was working properly he dipped it in the cup of ink and brought the needle to Dan's skin, starting on the outline of the peony.

A few days ago Dan had asked for this tattoo. They'd spent two hours drawing it and making the stencil along with setting up a series of appointments for it. This was Dan's first one, and all they had planned was the line art. Simple enough, but Phil's left leg was still shaking.

Dan was laying on his side on the tattoo bench so his right hip was easily accessible for Phil. There was a blanket wrapped around his legs and torso to cover his body, which was naked from the waist down. The blanket was pulled away from his one hip so Phil could tattoo him, and really all of Dan that was exposed was the area he wanted inked and a bit of his ass, but Phil was still out of breath. He blamed Dan's smooth, unblemished skin for making Phil this much of a mess.

Travis walked past them to help a customer when the little bell above the door chimed. He shot Phil a wink and mouthed  _whipped._ Phil suddenly regretted telling him about his crush on Dan a few weeks ago.

In short, Phil was nervous. He was pining. He was trying to stay calm and keep his freak-out internal. All of the pressure made him start to ramble, but he was certain that it was much less coherent than ever before.

The only thing that he didn't have to worry about was his hands, thank god. A combination of steel-like will refusing to make Dan's tattoo anything but perfect and years of practice made the tattooing smooth and unrushed. Phil was so good, he was even able to have time to do a bit of shading with Dan's consent.

The whole appointment was about four hours long, but it passed in about five minutes. When Dan's gone, Phil takes a lunch break longer than any other to gather his wits. He spends most of it with Travis after deciding that company would get his pining heart back under control. It works, even with Travis teasing him the whole time.

"He's got you wrapped around his little finger, mate." Travis unhelpfully supplied, cackling. Phil grumbled in response, pouting.

"Yeah yeah, sure, let's make fun of Phil for falling for a guy a little bit."

"A little? Sorry to break it to you, but you're gone for him, Phil."

 

* * *

 

 

Phil glanced at the clock again. He wasn't going to finish it in this appointment like planned.

He leaned back and clicked off his tattoo machine. Dan looked up at him, a happy smile on his face.

"Is it done?" he asked, excitement in his voice. Phil hated to disappoint him, but he shook his head.

"I still have to add in some of the harsher shadows and a few of the highlights. We don't have enough time for that since I have someone else coming in right after you, and starting it to only clean up in about ten minutes doesn't make much sense. I'm sorry it's not done even though I said it probably would be."

Dan was still smiling, which was a relief. "It's fine, Phil, I really don't mind coming back."

Phil wrapped the tattoo and took the materials he had been working with to properly dispose of and clean them while Dan disappeared to the bathroom—still wrapped in the blanket—to redress himself. Dan sat on the tattoo bench and watched Phil clean everything up after he was done, which was absolutely adorable if you asked Phil. Since he had the time he got out what he needed for his next customer and attached a small magnum needle.

"What kind of tattoo are you working on next?"

Phil winced. "Shading on a...well...let me show you." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his pictures until he found what he was looking for; it was of a client after his latest appointment. All of the line art and about half of the shading was done on a dragon that curled around the hairline of the guy's face. It was small, but still easily noticeable. Phil handed the phone to Dan who started giggling.

"God, I can't believe he'd want something like that on his face. What an idiot."

Phil mumbled something in agreement, his head stuck on how happy Dan sounded when he was laughing.

"Good luck with that." The bell chimed, letting the both of them know that Phil's next client had arrived. Dan's smile became a little more wistful. "I guess I should get going then."

Phil shrugged, hoping that his disappointment at Dan leaving wasn't showing too much. "Unfortunately I do have another customer. Should I schedule you for the same time in another month?"

"No, my schedule got changed around at work and I won't have time to come it while you guys are open." Dan pouted, sadness in his eyes. "It won't last forever, but it'll be a little bit until we see each other again, Phil."

Phil felt the frown pull the corners of his lips down.

"When are you off?"

"Sundays I have the whole day. During the week I'm working longer during the day, so we'd really only have fifteen minutes by the time you guys closed. It's okay though, I don't mind waiting a little for the rest of my tattoo."

The thing was, Phil wasn't prepared to go who-knows-how-long without seeing Dan.

"Stay here for a second," Phil mumbled, a crazy idea unfurling in his head. He walked to the back of the parlor where Travis was lounging on the sofa in the break room. He looked up when Phil came in.

"What can I do for you, Phil?"

"Do you think I could open the parlor on a Sunday?"

Travis raised his eyebrow.

"Phil, Sunday is the whole parlor's day off; why the hell are we opening it then?"

"Not everyone, just me. Dan can't make it for another appointment when we're open, and we don't know when he'll be able to come back on his new work schedule, which makes Sunday his only option."

Travis snickered.

"How did I know this was about Dan?"

"Travis, please, be serious. Can I?"

Travis traced the rim of the can in his hands with his finger, thinking. He took a sip before nodding.

"Okay, but I need to know when you guys are going to be here, and it's gotta be in the books for liability reasons. Make sure it's just the two of you, and don't make it more than two hours. If he doesn't show after fifteen minutes you leave, alright?"

Phil beamed.

"Thanks, Travis, I owe you."

"Don't do anything indecent in our tattoo parlor, Phil!" Travis called after him when he turned and left. It made Phil's ears reden, but didn't put a damper on his mood.

Dan was right where Phil had left him.

"How do you feel about coming in after hours on a Sunday?"

"What? Phil, you guys are closed on Sunday."

"I talked it over with Travis, and he's okay with me finishing your tattoo when it works for you. All that's left is just you picking when."

"Philip Lester," Dan laughed, a twinkle in his eye, "you're absolutely insane."

 

* * *

 

Five weeks later Phil was unlocking the parlor doors in his pajamas, feeling sleepy, but overall excited for the next few hours.

Dan arrived almost as soon as Phil himself did. He was smiling and in the happiest mood Phil had ever seen him in. It was weird to think about the first time Dan had wandered into the tattoo parlor about a year ago, curled in on himself and horribly passive. It was a good weird though, because when he thought about it, he couldn't help but smile at how much progress Dan has made.

"Aw, did I wake you, Phil?"

"Make fun of Phil, sure, go ahead." He mumbled with a fake pout as he started to set up this things. Dan didn't bother with the waiting room, opting on throwing his jacket onto the tattoo bench before hopping up. Phil could feel Dan's eyes on him, and the attention caused the back of his neck to prickle. He hoped he wasn't blushing.

When Phil thought it was safe he snuck a glance. Dan was in a pair of grey joggers that clung loosely to his body and a too-big black t-shirt. His curls weren't tamed in the slightest and the little rosey spot on his jaw that appeared when he got flustered was there, drawing Phil's eyes.

"You don't look too stunning yourself there, Dan." _I'm lying. You look amazing._

"Shut up!" Dan laughed. "Unlike you, normal people can't look like a model in their pajamas, Phil. Have some pity for the rest of us plebs."

Phil chuckled, but he was horribly uncertain. Had Dan just...called him attractive? Was he overthinking it? _I most likely am,_ Phil decided. There was something about Dan that made Phil unsure of everything.

Well.

Not _quite_ everything.

Phil pulled himself from his thoughts. How many times has he thought about spending more time with Dan? Too many to count. And now that he had it (just the two of them, at that) he was busy thinking!

"Right," Phil said after the stretch of silence, "I'm gonna get the ink, when I get back you should be ready for me then."

Phil stood to get the tattoo ink, but he didn't miss how Dan's hands went straight to the hem of his joggers, his thumbs tucking under the waistband. Embarrassed that his gaze had followed such a simple movement Phil guilty looked up only to freeze when he saw Dan's eyes on him.

_There was no way he didn't see that. Fuck._

He blushed hard, Phil's whole face heating up. Dan's eyes had a question in them, but it was one that Phil decidedly didn't want to look for at this second. He gave Dan a strangled smile and turned around, booking it straight to the back room where they kept the ink.

Phil picked and measured the ink with hands shaking from his mortification. Dan probably thought of him as some kind of creep now no doubt.

When Phil worked up the courage to venture back out Dan was on his side, the parlor blanket draped over his body like always.

He wasn't so sure if it was a relief or not.

Regardless, Dan didn't bring Phil's little awkward exchange up, which he was sure that he _was_ thankful for.

Phil worked through the first half of the flowers completely fine. He took up his normal routine of rambling about what Dan had missed out on in Phil's life since they had last met. Dan was a bit more vocal, his hums louder than normal and more expressive. When Phil moved onto the fifth flower he started talking about how he had been driving home two weeks ago, and some douche had given him the finger because he hadn't been moving fast enough.

"Are you serious?" Dan asked over the buzz of the tattoo machine.

"Yes! I wasn't doing anything!"

"What an asshole. Did you do anything back?"

"No. I wasn't about to stoop to his level, Daniel."

Dan snorted. "We both know that you didn't because you're too nice, Philip. If I were there though, I would have told him where to go for you."   
_"If I were there"_

The four words hit Phil particularly hard. What if Dan had been there in the car with him? Would they have been going to Phil's to hang out as friends? Something else? A can of worms opened in Phil's head, and suddenly he was thinking a thousand scenarios that he could only wish would happen, and positively none of them were platonic.

For some reason, it made his heart _ache._

After that moment, all of the rules they had nonverbally made shattered. Dan was talking more than usual; he was telling his own stories and making Phil laugh and smile, not the other way around. Dan also seemed to have lost his iron grip on his filter because Phil could name a few things he said that could be taken as flirty.

As a result, Phil's heart was flying all around the inside of his ribcage, and his head was hopelessly flipping between whether or not he should pursue it.

Best case he was reading the situation right and Dan actually had feelings for him as well. Worst case was Phil was horribly wrong and Dan (possibly homophobic in this scenario) would hate Phil and their friendship would end as abruptly as it began.

His anxiety told him that it was most likely the latter.

Phil clicked off the tattoo gun much sooner than he had anticipated. He studied the lines curling on Dan's skin for a flaw that he could fix, but there was none.

"Is it done?"

"Yeah. Looks like your latest tattoo is complete, Dan."

Dan took a few awkward pictures of his thigh before letting Phil wrap it. The whole time Dan was smiling wide enough for his dimple to appear on his cheek; Phil's heart ached longingly at seeing it.

After Phil ducked out of the room to let Dan pull on his pants, Dan helped Phil clean up the few empty cups of ink and other bits of trash while Phil cleaned his tattoo gun. They were standing at the register within fifteen minutes of Phil finishing Dan's tattoo even with his attempts at drawing the time out. He gave Dan his total and watched as Dan shuffled around in his wallet for the right amount of cash. (That was another thing about Dan. He always paid in cash.)

Feeling panicked at their time together slipping through Phil's fingers, he let his eyes drink in Dan standing before him, a sudden desperation to remember this moment perfectly taking over him. He traced over the dip of Dan's neck and the fall of his shoulders and over the curls of his hair, and certainly didn't miss how adorably soft Dan looked in his too-large clothing.

God, he wanted to kiss him so _badly_.

Phil wasn't sure what his expression was, or if his face was betraying what he was thinking about, but when Dan looked up with his money in hand, he immediately flushed scarlet.

_Shit._

He opened his mouth to try and explain himself, but no words came out. Dan's eyes flicked from the floor, to Phil's face, and back to the floor.

It was silent for a few moments.

Right as the words _"I'm sorry"_ were about to fall out of Phil's mouth, Dan finally looked back up at Phil, something in his eyes that Phil couldn't quite read.

"You don't want to fall for me, Phil."

Out of everything that Phil expected Dan to say, it certainly wasn't that. Maybe a _"I'm flattered but-"_ or a _"I'm not gay."_ But Dan telling Phil he didn't want to fall for him? He'd never have expected that in a million years.

"Why not?" he found himself saying. Dan shuffled on his feet.

"You just don't."

"Are you like a serial killer? Have you run over a puppy or something? I'm only asking because I don't think you realize I've _already_ fallen for you, so it's a little late for that warning."

Phil hadn't really meant to say all that, but as he thought about it he knew it to be true. He was head over heels for Dan. There was no denying it.

"Do you like me, Dan?" Phil asked softly after Dan didn't respond. Something pained surfaced in those brown eyes of his and he nodded.

"Have you seen yourself?"

Phil let himself the little breathy laugh that escaped his lips—most of it was nerves anyways.

"One date?" Phil's voice sounded small even to his own ears.

"Phil…"

"Just one, if you're willing. If you don't want to or don't want to go on a second I won't be mad. We can just go back to being friends if you want. Just...one date, please? Let me treat you to dinner"

Dan didn't say anything for a long time. He just looked  Phil in the eyes. Phil, for his part, held Dan's gaze and let him search for whatever he needed to.

Eventually, he nodded.

"Okay," he said, his voice quiet. Phil could feel the smile taking over his whole face and saw as Dan slowly started to grin as well. "Okay."

 

* * *

 

Exactly eleven days later Dan and Phil found themselves on the top of Phil's apartment complex after their dinner date because Dan wanted to see the stars, and Phil didn't have a balcony.

"That's Orion." Dan said, pointing up to a cluster of stars to Phil's left. "You can tell because of those three stars in a line make up his belt. That one a little to the left is Andromeda. You can't quite make out what's supposed to be her legs because we can't see all the stars, but it's still nice to look at."

"How do you know so much about the stars?"

"They were something I've always loved. I had a lonely childhood, so when I was little I made my own constellations and made stories for them—stupid, I know. When I got a little older, I decided to learn their actual stories."

"Is that why you've asked me for so many tattoos with stars in them?"

"Yeah. They all mean something."

Phil nodded even though they were laying on their backs and Dan most likely couldn't see the movement.

"Could you tell me about them? Your tattoos, I mean. You don't have you, you know. I understand more than most people that tattoos can be really personal."

Phil could feel nervousness creep up the back of his neck. Should he have asked that?

Dan rolled onto his side, and, unsure of if he was going to be told off or not, Phil copied the movement so they were facing each other. He watched as Dan touched his ribcage where Phil knew that he had inked the universe into his skin.

"This one pretty pretty much has to do with my love for the stars. I like to remind myself that everything is made of stardust, and because of it we're all our own set of made-up constellations." Dan's hand landed on is upper arm. "Cor cordium-"

"Heart of hearts." Phil blurted. At Dan's playful eyebrow raise, he blushed. "Sorry, I, uh, googled it after you left that one time."

Dan laughed. "Anyways, yes, it means _heart of hearts_ in Latin. My inspiration came from the whole 'wear your heart on your sleeve' thing. I got it because I've spend an unhealthy amount of my life bottling things up and I now want to actually live my truth, not imagine it."

Dan pulled up his sleeve to reveal the little bear and _have the courage to exist._

"These are sadder, honestly. Like I said, I had a lonely childhood, but it also wasn't a very good one. My parents...weren't the uh, _best_ of people. They didn't really want me, and didn't really know what to do with me. They hated that I liked guys later on, and in general didn't really bother supporting me. They were abusive, bottom line. The bear covers up the remainder of my self-harm marks, and the quote is where I tried to kill myself when I was a teenager."

Phil's heart felt like it was splitting in two. On some level, he knew what those scars were before Dan told him, since Phil had seen them back when he had first given Dan the tattoos. On another, he had been in denial.

"Dan I'm…" Phil trailed off—he didn't even know what to say. Sorry? Sorry didn't cover the least of it.

"It's okay, it was a long time ago. I'm a lot better now."

Dan's fingers traced his collarbone next, his shirt separating his hand and the tattoo of the Leo constellation. "Like you said when I asked for it, I'm not a Leo. I'm actually a Gemini, but that's besides the point. I always wanted to be a Leo because everyone describes Leo's as so brave and confident, and I was constantly jealous. So, I thought, that if I have it tattooed, I'd always have a bit of that self-assurance that they always seem to have."

Phil nodded.

"What about the leaves?"

"That one I actually got because I thought they would look pretty on me. The flowers on my shoulder as well"

Phil hummed, a smile pulling at his lips. "Well, you were right. They do."

"Are you trying to say that I'm pretty, Phil?"

"Very."

Before Dan could answer, a breeze blew, making goosebumps prickle up on both of their arms. The weather was warming as they grew increasingly closer to summer, but it still might be a little too cold for laying on the roof to star gaze.

"How about we go back down before it cools off too much now that the sun's gone down?" Phil asked, helping Dan up. Dan agreed and subtly linked their fingers together before asking Phil to lead the way.

Phil shut the door to his apartment behind them. When he turned around, Dan was looking down at their hands still clasped together. He swallowed. Was Dan having second thoughts about this whole thing?

"Can I kiss you?"

He should be used to Dan flipping his whole world upside down, but he wasn't.

Phil licked his lips, trying to remember the last time he had put chapstick on—he couldn't. He hoped that his lips weren't horrendously chapped.

"Yes."

Dan stepped further into their shared space first, and with his movement Phil drifted forward as well. They met in the middle, the only their mouths and hands touching.

That didn't last long, however.

The contact soothed something that he didn't even know was aching in him, and it apparently had a similar reaction in Dan because it almost instantly deepened into something much more primal. Their hands broke apart to tangle around each other, Phil's fingers drifting just under the hem of Dan's shirt. At the action Dan nodded wildly, moving the fabric out of the way to let Phil's hand touch more of his soft skin.

"Dan," Phil gasped when Dan tried to pull them towards the couch, "are you sure? I'm okay with it, but I don't want to push you I just-"

"Shhh," Dan interrupted, pecking Phil's lips once more. "I'm more than okay with this as long as you are."

The knowledge took a moment to register in Phil's head with how mush it was from kissing Dan, but he gave Dan a smile when it did.

"Then stop pulling us towards the couch, you idiot, the bedroom is this way."

Dan giggled when his back hit the duvet, reaching up for Phil, who eagerly settled into Dan's arms. Their lips met again, slower and with more of a purpose than before. He wasn't sure how long it took for them to break, but he knew that when they did to pull Dan's shirt over his head, his lips were red and swollen.

As Dan's upper body was revealed Phil pressed kisses up and down the exposed skin where it was tattooed, using his mouth to trace over the very lines he had drawn months ago.

Phil decided that as much as he enjoyed looking at Dan's tattoos, he loved kissing them even more.

"What about this one?" Phil asked, sucking on the jut of Dan's collarbone. Dan moaned as Phil worked the hickey right over the words of his very first tattoo.

"I got it the— _ah_ —day I cut ties with my parents. They weren't happy with it, as I know you noticed—remember that bruise?—but I really don't— _Phil!_ —care."

Phil was frowning at the words, absolutely seeing red over thinking about that bruise he had noticed on Dan's side coming from his parents. He hated it, and he loathed that these people had hurt Dan so badly, emotionally and physically.

As much as he didn't like it, Phil couldn't do anything about the past.

But he could do something about the present.

Later, when they were both naked, moaning together in the throes of passion, Phil couldn't still his hands from finding their way to Dan's last mystery tattoo as he rolled his hips into Dan's. It was the only tattoo that Dan had yet to explain the meaning of, but Phil knew that he didn't have to guess.

Peonies, red carnations, lavender, daisies, and other flowers danced over Dan's hip. Healing, strength, new adventures, and happiness of life respectfully.

It was a tattoo of healing. Of new beginnings.

Phil couldn't wish for anything more than to be a part of it.

 

* * *

 

 

"Good morning," Phil whispered, kissing Dan's cheek. They had fallen asleep almost instantly after their activities last night. Now, they were cuddled together, Dan's head tucked under Phil's chin, his body completely enveloped by Phil's protective embrace. Dan sleepily blinked his eyes open.

"I hate to wake you, but I know you have work in a few hours. I thought you may want me to drive you to your place so you could get ready soon," he continued, keeping his voice soft. Dan frowned at the mention of work and buried his head into Phil's chest as if to avoid his responsibilities.

"Alright, sleep a little bit more if you want, but not too much."

"No, it's okay." Dan said, rubbing one of his eyes. He stilled once again in Phil's arms and for a few moments they were silent, Dan letting his fingertips follow the lines of one of Phil's chest tattoos, Phil just enjoying the moment.

"What are we, Phil?"   
Phil shifted so he could see Dan's face properly. "What do you want us to be?"

Dan didn't answer right away, but Phil was surprised at the certainty in his voice when he spoke.

"Boyfriends."

Phil smiled wide and kissed the top of Dan's head.

"Whatever you say then, boyfriend."

Dan laughed softly and gave Phil a fond smile. It melted after a few moments.

"Are you sure, Phil? Are you sure you want to be that with me?"

Phil understood that Dan had a few problems. He knew that Dan had trouble seeing the best in himself, but it was also evident through the progress Dan made by himself since Phil had known him that he was getting better. He used to resemble a scared kid, but now he was so much more comfortable in his own skin.

Phil knew that it wouldn't always be good. He understood that Dan would have his bad days. He realized that Dan would need a bit more reassurance and love.

Phil also knew that he was more than happy to provide it.

He kissed Dan tenderly on the lips, pouring in just how _right_ this was.

"Completely."

 

* * *

 

Things, as a matter of fact, were not always good.

They were a bit rough in the beginning, but as they learned to work together as a couple and not just as casual friends things got better. Phil gave Dan everything he could to make him feel more comfortable in their relationship, and Dan put the world at Phil's feet.

They fell in love hard and fast, moving in with each other before the year was out.

Looking back, Phil knew that they both grew so much as people in that first year together.

"Phil, I'm starting the popcorn, hurry up!"

Phil smiled in the mirror of the bathroom at the sound of Dan's voice. This was going to be their ninth year together. Nine years of good and bad and everything between. Nine years of loving Dan.

"Coming!" Phil called, drying his hands.

He turned off the bathroom light and opened the door to join Dan in the lounge.

He didn't miss how the soft yellow of the nightlight caught on the ring on his left hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for reading! Kudos and comments are welcome. My final PBB fic will be out tomorrow! 
> 
> Come follow me on @phan-of-the-pen on [tumblr](https://phan-of-the-pen.tumblr.com/), or reblog this fic on tumblr [here](https://phan-of-the-pen.tumblr.com/post/181079929626/undisclosed-desires)
> 
> The complete list of the flowers that made up Dan's hip flower tattoo:  
> Peony (healing)  
> Azalea (health)  
> Begonia (reflection, meditation, working through a difficult problem)  
> Red Carnation (strength)  
> Daisy (happiness of life)  
> Gerbera Daisy (excitement, excitement about the future)  
> Lavender (new adventure)  
> Orange Roses (excitement, desire, warmth)


End file.
